


The Girl in Silk Stockings

by TwistLimeGreen72



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, F/M, Friendship, Hydra (Marvel), Romance, WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-04 23:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6679939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistLimeGreen72/pseuds/TwistLimeGreen72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year was 1943. The back drop, a world at war. Men were going away to fight and women were forging a new destiny. They met and ridiculousness ensued, she never expected to hear from him, despite the measure she might have taken. He didn't expect more than that one chance meeting. They both fought the war in their own way. He with a gun and her in silk stockings. Haha!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance

Xxx

Chapter 1. Chance.

New York City, the night of the Stark Expo.

Bucky jumped from the trolley as it slowed, his feet hitting the asphalt with a soft thud, thinking he knew what the night would hold. In fact, he was so certain of it that as his hands went to his military dress hat, adjusting its angle on his head, he hadn't spared a thought too much of anything besides his frustration with Steve and having this last little bit of fun before he shipped out tomorrow.

With a quick glance around, his hands dropped from his hat and tugged down on the hem of his jacket, watching as the girls stepped down from the now-stopped trolley. One was a blonde, the other a brunette; their heads bent close as they spoke to one another, both wearing bright smiles.

Connie reached up and patted her dark curls as the girls moved away from each other, stepping into the glow of a street lamp as she pulled out her compact and lipstick then checked her makeup. After a brief inspection, she put on a bit more lip rouge then tucked the items back inside her purse and smiled excitedly at him. He smiled in answer and offered her his left arm.

Looking down at the excitement on her face made his smile grow. Offering Bonnie his other arm, they turned and made their way down the sidewalk, arm in arm. The jazzy sound of the big band playing inside the brownstone building just down the street grew louder the closer they got. Beside him, Connie squeezed his arm tightly in anticipation and quickened her pace.

To anyone looking at his wide grin and the strut in his step he may have appeared smug. After all, what man wouldn't be completely pleased with himself if he had a pretty dame on each arm and a night of dancing ahead of him, right? One that hadn't just walked off and left his stubborn best friend when the night was still young: the night before he shipped out to war, especially, if that friend had some sort of death wish, that's who.

Setting his irritation aside, and not for the first time since they'd left Steve, he smiled, determined to enjoy the last night he would spend in his own country for God only knew how long. By the time they stepped inside the United Service Organizations building, he'd placed thoughts of Steve in the back of his mind.

It wasn't till later that evening that the unexpected happened. Bucky had been waiting to order drinks near the crowded bar when someone had stumbled into him, pushing him forward. In turn, he'd stumbled into a young woman with short dark red hair, just as she was turning away from the bar. She dropped the drink in her hand and he'd reflexively reached out to steady her just as the glass hit the floor and shattered.

"Gosh, darn it!" She cried.

At the same time he said, "Sorry, miss."

His hands dropped away and she glanced at him briefly, but it was enough for him to see the wry amusement in her dark eyes before they dropped back to the skirt of her green dress, and the liquid splattered all over it and her stocking clad legs. He quickly produced his handkerchief, only to find she already held one in her hand as she dabbed at her skirt. She glanced up at him again, her large brown eyes full of open amusement this time, and took it anyway.

After she snatched his handkerchief away he continued to watch her, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. Accident or otherwise, most women would be annoyed or even angry over what he'd just done, not look up at him with laughter in their eyes. Hell, most women wouldn't have cussed, either. Amusement welled in his chest as he waited for her to hand his tissue back.

She righted herself and handed him the handkerchief. That entertained look was still there, but there was also a slight mischievous spark in her brown eyes and turning up one corner of her full red lips when she handed it back to him and belatedly said, "Thank you." Her voice held a hint of amusement and that twinkle in her eyes grew marginally. She made him think she was close to laughing as their gazes held. He opened his mouth to respond in kind, but the Marine he'd vaguely taken note of hovering by her side offered her his arm and led her away.

~ooOoo~

Rose O'Shea was always one looking for a good time. It was a simple philosophy really, but one that was born from not-so-simple things. She had just decided long ago (well, maybe not long ago if one remembered she was only twenty one and only that for a week) to seize whatever excitement life threw her way; just as she learned to laugh and remember no matter how bad things might appear, they could always be worse.

That philosophy and her love of a good time were what had her practically racing to her bedroom to get ready to go out tonight after work. Maxine had asked Rose and Sophie if they wanted to go to the USO when they were starting their shift at the factory this morning and of course they'd agreed.

So here she was, standing beside the packed bar of the recently opened USO club, waiting for her resident dance partner for the night to procure her a drink. In general, spirits were running high and the room seemed alive with a vital pulse. Everywhere, people were talking an laughing, boasting and jesting. It wasn't just the songs and dancing that created the atmosphere, though those things added to it so much as the young soldiers, most of them on the verge of shipping out that filled the room. That same excited energy that charged the people and the air coursed through her own body as she listened to the trio of young women on stage sing the last few words of 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.'

Her gaze passing over the blond head and the chiseled features of the man in the dark blue Marine officers dress uniform standing beside her ordering drinks. The song ended and people began to clap. She clapped herself for a moment watching as the girl's, dressed in USO, red white and blue chorus line outfits, walked off stage. Their garrison caps sitting slightly off center on top of their blond heads and Betty Page type hairstyles, they blew kisses and waved as they went.

The announcer stepped up to the mic, clapping enthusiastically along with the crowd as he leaned closer and said "Let's hear it for the Merry Belles, visiting us all the way from Atlanta, G.A.! They may not be the Andrews Sisters, but aren't they a picture."

Another cheer rose up in the crowd as the men voiced their agreement before the announcer went on, "I'd like to take this moment to remind you all that buying war bonds saves lives and made this night possible. Now back to our main attraction for the evening, Billy Compton's 5th Street Brand."

Confidently resting her hip against the bar, she watched the band take its place on the stage, her palm tapping lightly against the cool wood surface of the counter as she impatiently waited for the music to begin. Rose knew she looked good—she hadn't worn her best emerald cap-sleeve dress for nothing—and she was ready for the night to truly begin.

The highly polished hardwood dance floor in the center of the room was crowded with people all dancing some version of the East Coast Swing or another as the drummer of the band beat out the opening solo of Benny Goodman's 'Sing, Sing, Sing.' Upbeat and lively, the song fit the atmosphere perfectly, and her toes tapped in time to the upbeat tempo.

Truthfully, she was somewhat of a bold creature by nature, but she wasn't quite the woman her affected poise and demeanor projected tonight either. When she was younger, she and her older brother Mick had learned to adopt whatever personas they felt they needed. Life on the streets had taught them early on that such an existence was especially hard on children, and it was made even harder by the Depression. Back then it had been for survival, tonight it was because and just because.

Well, more truthfully it was because of the man that made her his mark the moment she walked through the door, saying all the right things and playing on what she'd once read referred to as 'the softer emotions' of the fairer sex but what Rose had come to think of as most women's natural stupidity.

Rose herself wasn't averse to the dashing cut of a well-built man in olive green, but unlike Maxine and Sophie that wasn't the draw to this particular locale for Rose. It was more the idea of dancing the night away and leaving her cares and worries for tomorrow. Lieutenant Charles Atworth had made it, albeit unwittingly, so much more fun and she'd found herself playing the game along with him; toning down her Five Points accent and emphasizing the social graces seen on the silver screen.

The aforementioned Lieutenant spoke, saying, "Here you go," drawing her attention from the dancers to him as he handed her a glass. Adopting her best doe-eyed look, Rose smiled sweetly up at him. "Thank you," she said, feeling the coolness of the liquid through the glass as she took it from him and raised it to her lips. "Would you mind escorting me to my friends?" She asked after she'd finished taking a sip. "I need a breather."

They were just turning away from the bar when someone stumbled into her, knocking her off-balance slightly. Everything happened so quickly from there she dropped her glass, stumbling backwards into her companion as a pair of hands settled on her arms.

Her gaze instantly dropped down, noting the lemonade splattered all over her skirts before she righted herself. "Gosh, darn it!" she cried, rather loudly.

Not really one to cry over spilt milk or in this case lemonade, amusement filled her, growing when seconds later a voice in her head went tsk, tsk, tsk, and she wondered exactly what the lieutenant would think of her language and the accent that had accompanied it.

"Here, I'll get you something to clean your dress with," the object of her thoughts said, bringing her gaze up, but it wasn't his eyes she met. Rather it was those of the man who had reached out to steady her. Belatedly, she thought he might have spoken to her but the concern in his blue eyes distracted her and made her amusement grow. His hands dropped from her arms, and she looked away, turning her attention back to her dress. Charles' handed her a bar cloth, which she took without a word. Truthfully, she'd forgotten about him and the fact he'd said he'd get her something to clean up with after she'd met the gaze of the other and noted that amusing look of concern in his eyes. Less than a second later, a handkerchief appeared in front of her. Her right eyebrow lifting a little as she took it as well, glancing up as she did so.

It was the same man that had reached out to steady her. She laughed softly, amused by the absurdity of the situation, especially when she noticed the hand offering the second tissue still hadn't moved. She supposed that he couldn't if he wanted his handkerchief back, but really, all this fuss over a little split liquid. The lemonade would wash out, the dress would be fine. After a moment she handed the tissue back to him, saying, "Thank you."

She had to repress the need to laugh. The gleam in his blue eyes mirrored her own, making her think he shared her sense of amusement about the whole thing. And she was quite certain if her escort hadn't pulled her gaze away, she may have lost the battle for composure.

Later that night

Bucky's right hand slipped along the metal railing dividing the stairs that led to the subway tunnel, feeling the rough texture created by years and years of painting over chipped paint against his palm. His pace quickened so he would catch the train; he could hear it even now nearing the station.

They'd left Bonnie at the USO in the company of a friend of hers about an hour and a half ago, then he'd taken Connie home. He'd stayed and visited with her long enough that he'd had to rush to catch the train. He really wasn't a fan of goodbyes, especially drawn out ones.

He was going to go through another round of them in the morning with his younger sister and aunt. Thinking about his sister, his expression softened slightly as his mind drifted back. He'd sat Becca down and talked to her after he'd decided he was going to enlist, being frank with her about his reasons, and she'd told him she understood. Still, it hadn't been an easy decision to make. Both their parents were dead and she was only sixteen and if he let himself think about leaving her too often it ate at him. If it wasn't for his Aunt Catherine taking care of Bec for him, he wouldn't be going.

Connie knew that, and so did Steve. They'd both told him they'd keep an eye out for her once he was gone. He'd asked her to come to the Expo with them tonight, but she'd refused, saying they'd spent everyday since he got home from basic together and that he should just go have some fun and she'd see him in the morning. Now he felt like an ass for not making her come.

As he reached the first landing on the stairs, his thoughts turned back to Connie. He swore sometimes she thought herself Ginger Rogers and him Fred Astaire, the thought made the good-natured smile he'd worn most of the evening pull at his lips once more. Her love for dancing and fun in general was one of the main reasons he'd asked her to come out tonight, instead of one of the other girls he dated on and off. Well, that and he didn't want to be serious tonight; Connie had no interest in being more than friends.

The only thing that could have made this night better was if Steve wouldn't have decided to be his stubborn self and just waited till tomorrow, or better yet gave up the foolish idea of enlisting altogether. Sighing softly, he dismissed the thought and the rush of irritation that came with it.

Stepping down off the stairs and onto the subway platform, his hands slipped into his pockets as he hurried toward the train, watching the passengers simultaneously boarding and departing. A glimpse of dark red curls, in the crowd caught his eye. He watched the woman more closely for a moment; curious to see if it was actually the girl he'd nearly knocked over earlier. He smiled when she turned her head slightly and he saw her profile.

He would have noticed any woman traveling alone this late at night simply because it wasn't safe.

But if he hadn't seen her earlier, if he hadn't placed her in similar circumstances, he may not have paid as much attention and he wouldn't have seen what happened next.

He'd no more than determined the man he saw her with earlier wasn't there when he saw her stumble, bumping into the older gentleman beside her.

The older man reached out a steadying hand, placing it on her arm. That part at least was perfectly normal, he'd done the very same thing a few hours ago. What wasn't normal was the rectangular shape of what he thought might be a man's billfold that she quickly shoved into her pocket as she spoke to the man.

Bucky's steps slowed as he held back, letting the others board the train before him, still shocked by what he had just witnessed. The very idea that she herself was the hood in this instance, left him slack jawed.

The doors began to close and Bucky followed them onto the subway car before they completely shut, just managing to grab a pole to steady himself as the train lurched forward. His gaze immediately went to her where she was seated on a bench a few feet away, the events he'd just seen replaying themselves in his head. She'd stumbled into the man, slipped her hand inside his coat , looked up and smiled at him while excusing herself. The man had even reached out and steadied her while she was stuffing his wallet in her coat pocket and still there hadn't been a visible slip in her composure.

"Bold as brass," he mumbled to himself. Even now, she seemed completely at ease, just as she had at the USO earlier tonight. In fact, besides the slight gleam in her eyes and the faint flush staining her skin, you wouldn't think she had a care in the world, as if it were a completely normal, everyday activity to filch someone's wallet.

The bizarreness of the whole thing still left him at a loss and he knew he wasn't letting her exit the train with the man's wallet, but there were a few minutes between now and when the train would pull into the next station, and part of him was curious. Why, he didn't know. What he should do was take the wallet from her and tell the man what she'd done, but inexplicably, part of him was curious to know what she'd do next. His curiosity growing when moments later she smiled faintly. It wasn't a smug one, it was more of the type that said, "I have a secret."

Watching it and the wry expression that followed it onto her face, made a smirk tug at his own lips.

~ooOoo~

Rose had always known her besetting sin: an impulsive nature. She regretted her behavior as soon as the door slid closed behind her. One minute she'd been shuffling along with the other passengers boarding the train. Amusing herself with thoughts of the disappearing act she'd just pulled as she hummed 'Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree' and then the next...

She'd bumped into the gentleman on accident. That part, at least, was innocent enough. His big over coat had been open, affording her a birds-eye view of his wallet in an interior pocket and she the rest had just happened...

The only explanation she had for it was somehow this night seemed made for games of cat and mouse. It had started when she walked into the USO and first met Charles Atworth III.

She wasn't born yesterday, and she hadn't recently fallen off a turnip truck either. Her eyebrow raising slightly as she her thoughts continued. She'd known his line for what it was. Every girl seemed to have a similar story about some soldier saying the right things these days.

In short, she hadn't been able to not toy with him and let him think he was getting his way.

Slow down, Rosie, her mind whispered, don't forget what you know, bringing her back to the present and her latest act of impetuousness tonight. She reminded herself this one could cost her far more than the buffoon Lieutenant Atworth could. She had learned when she was young not to run and not to make a scene or do anything to draw undue attention to herself, unless it was completely necessary, but most importantly to keep her eyes open for anyone that might have seen something.

She lifted her gaze, making a sweep of the other passengers, and that's when she saw him. At first she hadn't recognized him. She hadn't expected to see anyone she might recognize. She'd noticed a soldier hurrying to board the train behind them, but she'd only caught a glimpse and hadn't really cared to look.

Her gaze snapped back to him as recognition kicked in. Her heart pounding as their eyes met and for a moment her body tensed. Usually a direct gaze meant you'd been found out. Then the logical side of her kicked in: of course he'd recognize her after their earlier mishap. So she smiled at him, careful to make it friendly, but not too much and dropped her gaze once more.

It took a minute or so, but she did eventually look up, her gaze passing quickly over the occupants on the train when she got to him. She met his gaze briefly and for a second Bucky thought she didn't recognize him, until she visibly stiffened and her eyes snapped back.

Despite her effort to hide it, James saw worry mark her features as she looked back at him, but less than a second after their eyes met it was gone and quickly enough that if he hadn't been watching her, he might have dismissed it. She only looked at him briefly, her smile friendly and completely innocent and dismissive, the term 'bold as brass' slipped through his head again. .

~ooOoo~

Aware of his continued attention, Rose grew increasingly uncomfortable as she began to question her own logic in dismissing him. When he'd started moving in her direction, it was a battle to keep herself still on the bench and keep her uncertainty hidden.

"It seems your fingers and toes have something in common," he said conversationally as he sat down just a few feet away, then crossed his left leg over his right knee and stretched his arms out along the back of the bench.

Damn, was the first thought to enter her mind as he spoke, her body tensing. She'd been made. Instinct born from years of survival kicked in, and she played it cool as she met his gaze and asked, "Excuse me?"

A smile threatened at the side of his lips as he watched her cool facade and the deliberately obtuse look in her brown eyes. Playing along with the charade, he schooled his features. "Your fingers and toes," he repeated as if his statement made perfect sense, which it did.

After the drink mishap, he'd seen her again on the dance floor in a whirl of green skirt, white slip and legs as her partner flipped her over his back. "It would appear you are light with one and quick on the other," he added as his gaze broke from hers and traveled past her then came back again.

Belatedly, she pulled her gaze from his face and followed the direction of his eyes, a heavy sick feeling coiling her stomach tight. Her attention snapped back to him, her heart pounding painfully against her chest. A voice cautioned, "Easy, Rose," as their gazes held.

After a second his eyes dropped and her's followed, only to find his out stretched hand. Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she focused on his hand, her body was still tense, heart pounding slightly. She knew what he wanted and for a moment she almost denied it, but one more quick glance at his face told her it wouldn't do her any good. Her gaze dropped to his chest and she stared unseeingly at the clasp on his uniform belt, weighing her options or lack thereof.

Despite her lack of options, her normally quick mind searched for an escape route anyway, even though she knew there wasn't one. He will tell and they'll take you to the nearest cop shop as soon as the train stops, her mind warned. Ignoring her head, she let instinct take over. Mickey always said trust your gut, Roe. After the barest of instances her gaze lifted back to his face, finding his eyes on her.

The decision came not from the knowledge that either way she could go with this denial or compliance, she had no choice. She stuck her hand in her pocket and pulled out the wallet, dropping it into his outstretched hand.

He stood abruptly and walked away.


	2. Circumstance

Xxx

Chapter 2. Circumstance.

Rose stared at the place he'd just vacated for a half a second before her gaze finally followed him, fixing on his uniform clad back and staying there as he made his way toward the owner of the wallet. Despite that slight glint of wry amusement she'd seen in his eyes moments ago, she was wary and her muscles coiled tightly in response to the feeling. She had no idea what he intended to do next or if he'd tell the gentleman she'd lifted his wallet.

She wasn't really stupid enough to think she had any right to expect anything else. Nonetheless, a piece of her almost desperately latched onto the fact he hadn't given up her goose just yet. Trying to push the desperation away, she knew no matter the outcome she wouldn't be able to breathe normally till she knew what he intended.

Maybe it was because of that building anxiety that Rose broke yet another cardinal rule of pick-pocketing: looking directly at your mark before or after the lift. Her eyes stayed with the soldier as he reached out to tap the older man on the shoulder. Her already thumping heart sped up, banging painfully against her ribs as she watched him hand the billfold back to the man, speaking to him as he did so. After a couple more moments, she finally realized she was staring and looked a deep breath, she willed her heart to stop pounding as her gaze dropped to the floor. She continued to watch them out of the corner of her eye, focusing all of her attention on the low din of their voices, her ears straining, albeit unsuccessfully, to hear what they said.

The older gentleman's gaze drifted around dingy interior of the subway car, then he put his wallet back in his pocket and shook the soldier's hand. Letting out a breath she didn't realize she'd actually been holding, she relaxed a little, but it was short lived A heavy sick feeling swamped her stomach again: Mickey would be fit and feather white if he'd found out what she'd done tonight. If he could somehow see past the act itself, where she'd chosen to do it would infuriate him. They'd been caught in the act before when they were children, but they'd always managed to avoid being apprehended and they'd learned quickly never to back themselves into a corner.

A pair of legs covered in olive green move past her and took the same spot they'd previously occupied.

Her gaze lifted to the window opposite them and she focused on his reflection. She wondered again what came next, what he planned to say or do. An intelligent person, especially one who just might have been given a Get out of Jail Free card, would keep their trap shut. But for Rose sitting there and waiting was far worse than asking.

When he didn't speak after some moments she asked, "Do you plan to haul me to the nearest precinct?" She didn't turn her head, just continued to study his reflection in the glass.

Bucky's gaze turned to her when she spoke. He hadn't planned on sitting down near her again, but at the last minute had decided to. Oh, he'd known before he sat down that she could keep her head down and follow that instinct to bolt at the next station, but another part of him had thought maybe, given the bold little thing her earlier actions had proven her to be, she'd speak again given the chance. And to put it simply, he wanted her to.

He'd watched her out of the corner of his eye since he'd sat down and waited. Knowing he wasn't going to turn her in. He didn't know when he'd made that decision exactly, but he had and now, seeing how nervous she was, he knew he probably really should put her out of her misery and tell her. It was after all what a gentleman would do. But he wasn't so certain gentlemanly rules applied in this situation and after how cool and calm she'd been before, he found her rattled composure entertaining. He had no intentions of answering until she looked at him.

Rose knew he'd heard her as she'd seen his head turn toward her in their reflection in the window across from them. Even though he didn't speak, her nerves began to settle as soon as the question was asked. Nothing about his attitude made her nervous at all—in fact something about his present silence was slightly amusing. She repressed the sudden urge to smile and pasted a more serious look on her face. After a moment more, she looked over at him, immediately noticing the faint twinkle in his blue eyes.

"No," he finally answered.

Their gazes held again for a silent moment before hers dropped, first back to his mouth and then drifted lower, over the cleft in his chin then along his neck, before it settled on the sergeant stripes of his arm. Rose felt fairly certain that a "thank you" was in order, but for the life of her she wasn't quite certain what words to use to say "thank you for not turning me in after you saw me steal someone's wallet."

Bucky knew he could expect her to offer some words of thanks and, judging by her facial expression, she was struggling with that very idea.

After a moment more, he pulled a straight face and circumvented the apology altogether . "You're welcome." He said, careful to maintain his facade.

"Thank you?" It actually came out more like a question than a statement, her voice sounding a little confused, and the grin he'd been stifling slipped back onto his face.

The grinding of the brakes on the train drowned out any opportunity to speak again and drew her attention to the platform coming into view through the window.

It's your stop, her mind announced unnecessarily, then added, the voice sounding oddly hopefully to Rose, maybe it's his as well as the train stopped completely and the doors opened. She glanced at him as she stood and found his gaze on the other passengers as they disembarked. Before she even knew what she was about, she turned and asked with an expectant look on her face. "Well?"

When the train had started to slow and she stood an oddly let-down feeling filled him. The feeling disappeared however when she turned and spoke, "well?" Her dark eyes held his, twinkling slightly and a faint smile played about her lips as she repeated herself. "Well?"

At first confused by her words, he surmised by the barely contained mirth in her eyes, that his confusion must be showing. Placing her hands on her hips, she adopted a frustrated look.

"First you dumped my drink on me and now...Well, I'm hungry so I'm thinking you owe me supper, Sarg," she explained impatiently.

Rose watched surprise replace the confusion that had marked his features. His expression quickly changed to one of entertainment and she couldn't help but let own her amusement show. After a second more he stood, that amused gleam in his eyes growing.

Impetuous...her mind suddenly stated accusingly and, not for the first time tonight, as he stood, color stole across her skin and she turned quickly. You know nothing about this man... It stated next as she stepped off the train. Next it accused, Didn't you just make a fool of one soldier who was looking for more than a simple dance tonight? How do you know he isn't as well?

He didn't turn me in, she silently argued with herself.

Her mind had an answer for that as well: Maybe he thinks you plan to pay him for the gesture...

Growing exasperated with herself, she said to herself, Oh shut up. Then quickly added, I'm sure he's harmless.

Bucky followed her off the train, a little confused and very charmed. She stopped abruptly, causing Bucky to do the same, and turned. Her expression held a hint of hesitance. If she was nervous, he could understand it as she didn't know him from Adam. The impulse to put her at ease suddenly hit him. He knew he wanted to know more about her and he also knew if this chance slipped away, he'd not find another.

"How did you know I am light on my feet?" she suddenly asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. It wasn't altogether unlikely he'd seen her dancing at some point this evening, but she was unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. Her eyes drifted over his uniform and paused on his shoulder before she continued, "Sarg?

A grin tugged at his lips and one dark brow raised slightly. He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heel, his head tilted slightly to the side as he said, "I have my ways," with a slight lifting of his chin.

Observing the somewhat cocky tilt of his chin and manner in general, she pulled a serious face, folded her arms over her chest and lifted her own chin slightly. Then she laughed for just a moment, unable to hold her serious facial expression.

At her short burst of laughter, Bucky felt his own chest rattle with silent amusement. Once she'd finished, he asked, "So is there a place to eat open around here?"

"Just around the corner actually," she replied. Sticking her hand out, she said, "Rose O'Shea."

Glancing down at her small hand, he took it in his own, before his gaze came back to hers. "James Barnes. But most people call me Bucky."

~ooOoo~

Taking her menu from their waitresses hand, she opened it and looked over it, her eyes settling on him, where he'd just slid into the booth opposite her.

He'd removed his hat and placed it on the seat beside him and she took the moment to just observe him. Her gaze drifted over his face, starting with the thick dark brown hair pushed back from his forehead, then lower, over the line that creased the skin above his eyebrows then lower still. Unlike her, he was looking at his menu and because of that his eyes where partly concealed from her. Even so, the blue caught her attention, and held her gaze for a moment. He was handsome, there was no doubt about it, she thought, as her eyes drifted further down his features.

A rather naughty voice from somewhere in her head adding to the thought as it said, He fills out that uniform rather well, too, don't you think?

With a slight lift of her eyebrow, her mind answered itself, Indeed.

Some part of her had registered that he was attractive before this moment, but she hadn't realized quite how attractive. Her gaze found its way to his lips and discovered a lopsided grin on them.

"Are you reading your menu, Miss O'Shea?" he asked, his voice suspicious.

Her gaze quickly dropped as an equally quick smile slipped onto her lips. "What else would I be doing, Sergeant Barnes?" she replied innocently.

After a short pause, he said, "Nothing." His grin growing slightly as he realized she'd been staring at him and he went with the compulsion to tease her. Now, however, with the heavily laid-on innocence in her voice, he found himself wondering what exactly she'd been thinking.

Rose studied the menu for a moment, despite not needing to look at it to know what she wanted. Apple pie and a chocolate soda sounded about right. She really wasn't hungry at all—she just hadn't been ready to part from him—so she made her outlandish request for supper for that reason.

Dismissing her menu, she peeked over it again, noting the amused smirk that slipped onto his features seconds later. "So when do you ship out, soldier?"

"Tomorrow morning," Bucky responded, looking directly at her for the first time since they sat down.

"Then it's fortunate we met tonight," she said, the smile playing about her lips .

Bucky wasn't certain he had a verbal response for that comment, but before he could even think of anything, their waitress returned, pad in hand and asked, "Are you ready to order?"

Folding her menu, Rose looked up at the older woman waiting to take their order. Bucky saw her shoot him a sidelong glance as she said, "Yes, I am. I'd like a slice of apple pie and a chocolate soda please."

Handing her menu back to the waitress, Rose's gaze traveled back to him as he ordered pie and a cup of coffee.

A sudden image of the young woman she had seen him with earlier after the lemonade incident filled her head, bringing a question along with it. Was she his girl? And the question came out before she realized it: "Is there anyone I am keeping away from tonight?"

Slight color stained her cheeks but now that she'd asked, she wanted to know. Not that it mattered—it was altogether likely she'd never see him again after tonight.

The question, Bucky found, mirrored one of his own. He'd forgotten about the man whose whereabouts he questioned when he first saw her alone on the subway platform, but now the reason behind that curiosity seemed to have changed a little.

Noticing the faint remnants of color staining her skin and decided quickly that he liked it before he replied "No." Seeing the small smile that tugged at her lips, he asked, "How about you?"

With a slight shake of her head, she said, "No."

Unaccountably happy, she repressed the smile that both the answer to her question and then his own inquiry made pull at her mouth. After a moment more, she asked. "So where does this soldier live until tomorrow morning?"

"Brooklyn. What about you?"

"Just a few blocks away."

~ooOoo~

Rose hung back as Bucky left to go pay their tab. Grabbing her coat, she pulled a pencil from the pocket and tore off the edge of her placemat and quickly wrote on it. Then she stood, stuffing it in her pocket and started in his direction.

He stood sideways beside the counter, his head turned toward the woman waiting on him as he leaned heavily on the elbow that rested on the top. A very girlish and giddy feeling filling her chest as her mind drifted back to moments before he'd stood. She had told him she could walk herself home, saying she only lived three blocks away but he'd had none of it, saying he'd see her there. To be honest, she more than liked his firm refusal to let her walk herself home.

The smile teasing her lips grew at her next thought: she even liked the nickname he went by.

Bucky.

He certainly didn't strike her as a Jim or a Jimmy but Bucky seemed to fit him perfectly. It had a good-natured, easy-going ring to it while James seemed too formal, Jim felt like a name for an old Doctor, Jimmy was a nickname for a kid.

Honestly though, she hadn't seen anything about him she didn't like. Oh, he was smooth enough, but in the brief hour and half or so she'd known him, and saw what she figured was his given nature to flirt and tease he didn't bother her. He did come off a little cocksure, and she had no doubt he was a very confident man or that he used that confident personality to charm woman (and people in general) and nine times out of ten, she bet, he got what he wanted. She'd met many men with that same personality. Her dance partner from earlier for instance, but with Bucky it was different.

~ooOoo~

Leaning against the counter, Bucky took one of the toothpicks from the dispenser near the cash register and placed it between his teeth as he watched her step up beside him. The questions of what she'd scribbled on that piece of paper a few moments ago and what brought that 'cat that ate the cream' expression that followed it on his mind. As if she knew he was thinking about her, she looked up at him for a second then her attention dropped to the toothpick he rolled between his teeth before it moved back to the waitress behind the counter.

Really, he supposed it could be about anything.

The slight smile on his lips grew, as his gaze drifted over her head of dark red curls; most men said redheads weren't mentally stable and he guessed now he understood why.

He was fairly certain that he'd never met anyone quite like her. Some women went to absurd length to catch a man's eye, but he was in no way self-centered or full of himself enough to think she'd gone through all of this simply to catch his—no sane person would. That wasn't to say he thought she was exactly what you'd call sane either nor did it didn't stop him wanting to tease her about that very thing or about what she'd written on that piece of paper.

~ooOoo~

Rose watched their waitress cash out the tab, very aware he was staring at her and she was fairly certain he was thinking about her, but like a silly school girl she wanted to know exactly what. Before she could speculate anymore, the waitress looked up and handed him his change

Stepping back, she waited for him as he placed it in his wallet.

"Ready?" he asked.

Nodding her head, she turned and walked with him to the the exit, holding the the door open for her as he took the toothpick from his mouth with his other hand and dropped it in a small wastebasket nearby as she moved past him.

Rose headed in the opposite direction from the one that had brought them here. Her hands in the pockets of her dress coat, her gaze on the sidewalk before her as he stepped up beside her.

Moments later, he spoke, drawing her. "It's a nice night."

The comment struck her as absurdly commonplace, given the circumstances of the night so far. An amused noise escaped her before she asked, "How long will it take you get to England?"

"A couple weeks, maybe longer."

She nodded her head, not saying anything because there really wasn't anything to say. The trip would normally take less time but with the ever present threat of u-boat attacks, things had changed. It had started less than six weeks after Pearl had been bombed and with first u-boat attack. The Nazis sank the ship Heart of Atlanta off the Great Barrier Reef and the government and private shipping companies had had to be way more cautious.

New York had even started dimming the harbor lights in the evening and at night sometimes. Her brother worked at the shipyards and said the first time the lights had dimmed and he was there, three troop ships had sailed out. Despite the cautionary measures, the Nazis still managed to sink or disable dozens of ships and kill hundreds since then from Canada clear to the Gulf of Mexico.

After a moment more she spoke again. Choosing not to comment on the threat of u-boats, she began with the first thing that came to mind: "My friend Max doesn't think it's fair that women aren't given the same opportunities to serve our country as men, "she said, lifting her gaze. He had a content look on his face so she went on, "She says that we are mothers after all, so we are much more capable of dealing with death than men. What do you think?"

After the words came out, she found she really was curious to know what he thought so she didn't add that she felt Max's biggest reason for that complaint was she just liked to have an opinion about everything.

That was a loaded question if he'd ever heard one. After a moment of thought, his gaze came back to her and he replied, "Well, I can see where she might be right about women and death, but I wouldn't want my sister or any woman I cared for to see the things I will see."

Rose nodded and looked away, after a moment of silence, he asked, "What about you?"

"I don't know, honestly," she replied, her gait slowing to a stop, a thoughtful look on her face as she turned toward him. He did the same, waiting for her to continue. "I never really thought about it 'til Max's brothers enlisted and she brought it up."

She came across so bold and sure of herself, he'd expected more of an answer than the one she gave and as he stood there studying her, his arms behind his back, he realized he was a little disappointed by the answer. "There are things she could do that didn't involve combat. Make ammunition. Serve as an aide. Volunteer in an enlistment offices."

His eyes drifted over her face as he continued, "You said you work at a textile factory. I'd assume you're making uniforms. She could do that. Or, if she wants to be close to the front lines she could join the Red Cross."

Smiling, Rose shook her head slightly and started forward again. "She already works with me." Once he fell into step beside her, she said, "I don't know that she actually wants to join, I just think she likes to have an opinion."

"I see, " he responded, wondering if she hadn't said that till now because she wanted to know what he actually thought or if she was just teasing him.

After that, the quiet of the city—or as quiet as it got—seemed to settle around them and, before she knew it, they were at their destination.

"This is me," Rose said.

Bucky glanced down at her then followed the direction of her gaze to one of the many marginally rundown apartment buildings sitting clustered in a row.

She spoke again, her voice soft. "And thank you."

There was nothing of her teasing nature anywhere. "Why'd you do it?" he asked, finally giving into the compulsion. The question had stayed in his mind since they'd been in the diner and, in the silence since she'd last spoke, it had come back again. Her clothing was decent, she was groomed, she just didn't seem like the type of person who he'd expect to see stealing for their bread.

Caught off guard by the question despite having just opened to door to it. She'd only said those words because she wanted him to know she really was thankful. But now standing there looking up at him, she could tell he really wanted to know. Maybe she even owed him an explanation after what he'd done, but her answer came as, "Why does anyone do anything?" She added a small smile for good measure.

The street light overhead illuminated her upturned face, letting him see the hint of amusement that followed her reply, then the expression changed and before he knew it, she stepped closer. Her body moving into his as she raised up on tiptoe and her eyes fell shut. Her soft lips brushed his mouth lightly.

Shock kept him immobile for a moment but then as she started to pull back, his right arm slipped around her, preventing her retreat as he pulled her close and returned the kiss. It felt like the most natural thing to do, the soft rush of breath that escaped from her lips making it feel more so. He reached up with his left hand, removed his hat, then slipped that arm around her as well.

The kiss had been an impulse, like so many other things tonight and she could have taken a different approach and reached the same end, but she'd thought 'why not' and done it. Meaning it in part to distract him as she slipped her hand from her pocket to his. Despite her actions she hadn't expected him to kiss her back. A soft startled breath escaped her lips as he pulled her close and returned the gesture, only more intimately, catching her upper lip between his as warmth slipped across her skin. Her small hands went to the lapels of his dress uniform, turning into fists as she held on, her back arching over his arm slightly as he leaned over her more. He moved his head, this time catching her bottom lip between his, and lingering there, he brushed another soft kiss against her lips, then he lifted his head.

Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him to find his attention shifting from her lips to her eyes. The shadow caused by his bent head made it hard for her to see the exact light in his eyes, but there was something other than the playfulness she'd seen before this point. A wave of heat scalded her cheeks and colored her skin again as his arms loosened about her and he stepped back. Rose looked down, stepping away from him as well.

Now you're going to play shy, he questioned silently. A smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he placed his hat back on his head. He wasn't certain what had made her suddenly kiss him, and as much as it had startled him at first, he'd enjoyed it. Seeing her flustered response, the impulse to tease her was there once again, but he didn't. Instead he titled his head to the side, shoved his hands in his pockets as he waited the couple seconds it took for her to look at him again.

Acutely aware of his attention, Rose bit her bottom lip lightly. She'd gotten a bit more than she'd bargained for, that was for certain, but, judging from the way her toes were curling inside her shoes and the jittery feeling filling her chest, she should look at it as a good thing. That giddy feeling grew, as she lifted her gaze. This time it was easier to see his face and the decidedly entertained and slightly knowing look on it.

Her cheeks instantly reddened again and she had to quell the impulse to look away once more, sensing that if she did, she'd only amuse him more. The twinkle in his bright gaze seemed to dance a little more, making her think he fully understood her first instinct had been to look away. More heat flooded her skin and she finally looked away Her eyes fell to his lips, and the playful grin playing about them and an entirely fresh wave of heat scalded her cheeks for just a moment as she remembered the feel off his firm mouth against hers.

Rose knew she'd managed to feed that amusement she had been trying not to. Not that she really cared if she amused him, in all actuality she found she rather liked it. All the same, she wasn't sure she wanted him to know that. Completely unwilling to be at a loss any longer, she pulled her gaze from his rather pleasant mouth and said, "You know, they make you watch a film when you get to England?"

He felt fairly certain she was laughing at him, but he played along anyway."Really?"

"Yes. Welcome to Britain. I've been told it tells you all you need to know about courting English girls." That wasn't exactly the truth. The movie was to encourage certain type of behavior or so Max's older brother had said when he wrote to her, but he'd told her in the very next line, most of the guys joked about it being courting instructions.

Laughter filled his chest and a slightly bemused expression slipped onto his face as he questioned for just a moment what kind of girl kissed a man then seconds later told him about an instructional film for courting English girls. Now just how was he supposed to take that, he wondered. "Take care of yourself."

Rose's smile twitched a little when she saw his reaction and there was laughter in her voice as she said, "I'll see you around, soldier." Then she turned and hurried toward her building.

Hell, who knew? Maybe she was right and they would see each other again, he thought as he watched her hurry toward the building, his hand absentmindedly wrapping around a piece of crumpled paper in his pocket.

She paused by the door, glancing back at him briefly, then she was gone.

Thanks for reading!


	3. First One and Then the Other

Xxxx

Chapter 3. First One

"The consequences of serendipity are sometimes a beautiful discovery."

New York, late May, 1943

Yawning softly, Rose tightened the belt on her light green housecoat as she left her room. The sound of a car starting in the alleyway below momentarily drew her attention toward the open window near the end of the short, narrow hallway as she paused by her brother's door and called his name. An "I'm up," greeted her from the other side.

Continuing down the hallway toward the small kitchen at its end, the soft soles of her slippers tapped against the old wooden floor as she went. Her gaze drifted out the open double window as she moved, passing over the familiar early morning view of lighted windows in the large brownstone apartment building sitting ten feet from her own.

Once she entered the kitchen, she turned the knob by the door casing. The light over the old rickety table, that a previous owner painted that horrible green color that had come to be known as "depression green," came on, filling the room with its soft buzzing noise and yellowish light. Electric lights were one of those things she relished having, along with many others. She had been fifteen and Mick almost eighteen when he'd managed to finally get them off the streets forgood. President Roosevelt's New Deal Programs had stimulated the economy, but it wasn't the government that got Mick a decent job when there were still too few to go around. It was him being an "Irish lad."

The older man that managed the shipyard where Mick worked was a third generation Irish immigrant, named Braden Fitzpatrick, who believed in taking care of his own as he put it. Within days of starting work, Mr. Fitz had found them this apartment in one of the many Irish neighborhoods dotting this area of the city. A short time after that, he'd asked Mick if she could read and do sums and when Mick answered yes, he'd told him to send her to Kintyre Dry Goods and tell them Braden Fitz sent her. The job had been both a surprise and a blessing. The only thing Mr. Fitz ever asked for in return was that Mick box in a few dozen fights through the years. Mick was a south paw, with a mean left hook. At the fights they called him Irish Mick. Rose didn't particularly like it, but it was as Mick put it a small price to pay after everything Mr. Fitz had done for them and the extra money it brought in did help.

Three years ago, she'd gone to work in the factory and it paid much better. Money was still tight, but she knew how fortunate they were.

Despite her brothers winnings, like most of the tenants in this area, a modern refrigerator, was one of things they couldn't afford so Rose made her way across the kitchen toward the built-in ice box in the wall, near a small gas stove. This ice box, along with the deep mahogany color of the wainscoting and the woodwork around the windows and doors, were some of the things that made her think that despite their small, four-room home's faded wallpaper, chipped paint and door knob on the front door that you had to turn the key just right to open, it had once been considered a fairly nice place. And she was happy just to have a roof over her head.

Rose did what she could to make their small home pleasant, always keeping it clean. She made curtains for the windows and pillows out of printed flour sacks and material remnants she bought. Mrs. Mary O'Conner, the old woman that lived across the hall and her husband, Angus, had taken an interest in Rose and Mick just after they had moved in six years ago and the closeness they now shared years later was basically that of family. She had taught Rose to knit, can meats and how to make do when keeping a home, along with many other skills to make their life easier.

Rose was grateful for her home and the O'Conners kindness, but there was one thing she wished was different: the lack of private facilities. There were only two public bathrooms on each of the five floors of the building and they were all that accommodated the many that lived inside. Many of the families in the building kept chamber pots, but Rose found the notion offensive. She didn't mind doing her morning washing in her room, but that's where she drew the line.

She had just managed to start their breakfast of oatmeal cooking and heat up yesterday evening's coffee when she heard the creaky hinges of Mick's bedroom door as it opened and then his heavy tread as he walked down the hall.

Grabbing the milk from the ice box, Rose placed it on the table next to the sugar dish just as he stepped through the door, instantly smiling when she noticed his short cropped copper colored hair sticking out all over his head and looking a fright. "Slept in your hair again, did ya?" she asked.

He stopped by the table, holding her gaze as he stretched his arms up over his head as he yawned and said rather sarcastically, "Good morning to you, too, sister." He walked toward the counter and picked up the cup of coffee she'd already poured for him, then turned and leaned against the counter, lifting the cup to his lips.

Pulling one foot up onto the seat she'd just sat down on, Rose grabbed yesterday's newspaper from the center of the table and unfolded it as she took a sip of her coffee. An article titled, "Munitions Ship Blows Up In Crash; 83 Die," caught her eye. Articles such as this weren't uncommon these days and they all usually read the same.

As if mirroring the thought, Mick said "another u-boat attack?" That question was immediately followed by another. "There were some letters for you day before yesterday. Did you happen to find them?"

She met his brown gaze and said, "No." Her attention stayed with him as he made his way across the room and opened the drawer they kept such stuff in. When he started toward her, envelopes in one hand, coffee in the other, he said "I won't be home till late tonight. I need to stop by Mrs O'Rourke's and look in on her and the kids."

"How are Maddy and Colin's sisters?" Rose asked. Mick and Colin O'Rourke had met when Colin trained Mick at the shipyard and they'd been friends ever since. Colin was another in the ever growing list of draftees and was presently at basic training in Georgia. When Mick told her, Colin had been drafted, it had made her stomach hurt. And as horrible as this may sound, it was more because of her own fear of the same happening to Mick than because of Colin and his family. It wasn't that she didn't feel for Colin's mother and sisters it was just that Mick was all she had. She sometimes went day to day waiting for it to happen. Luckily, Mick spoke again before she had a chance to think anymore on the subject. "I received a letter from Colin a couple days ago," Mick began, her gaze as he continued. "He wanted me to stop by and fix a couple loose boards on the front porch. He said he meant to fix 'em before he left but forgot." He handed her the letters and sat down.

Dismissing the letters for the moment, Rose stood and walked to the stove, pulling the pan of oatmeal from the burner and shutting it off. Her mind on Colin's twelve year old, twin sisters, Cora and Bridi as she dished up the their breakfast she said. "Tell Maddy I'll stop by this weekend. I have a couple old dresses I thought I'd remake for the girls and I need measurements."

"They'd like that."

Rose turned around and handed him his breakfast and found he filched the paper when she wasn't looking. Not that she was surprised. She arched an eyebrow at him as she sat down but didn't say anything

Picking up her spoon, Rose used it to put some sugar in her oatmeal, then added some milk she had gotten out of the ice box earlier as she absentmindedly flipped through the letters, reading their envelopes. The first was an advertisement letter from Sears and Roebuck, the second was from one of Max's brothers. The third, however, had her gaze snapping back to it and she read the name of the return address again. Sergeant James Barnes. She didn't read the rest of the address, only stared at the name, her heartbeat picking up tempo slightly as a faint wave of heat assaulted her cheeks and a slow smile blossomed on her face. Her gaze snapped to her brother as she stood quickly. Noting the curious look on his face, she said, "I need to do something." Forgetting all about breakfast, she hurried down the hall toward her room, already opening the envelope as she stepped inside and shut the door. She pulled the neatly folded paper from the envelope and unfolded it, her gaze eagerly scanning the contents as she sat down on her bed.

Dear Rose,

I assume the piece of paper I found in my pocket you put there because you wanted a letter? Maybe? Honestly, it surprised me when I found it, but why I'm not really sure. From what I've seen, you tend to approach things a little differently than most people so I guess it would make perfect sense that if that girl; the one I met a few weeks ago wanted a pen pal she'd have an.. Unusual way of asking. I hope this note finds you well and I hope I hear back from you. Some women or most women would likely be embarrassed, but I bet you'll write back.

Bucky.

The bright grin teasing her lips grew as she continued to stare down at the letter in her hands after she finished reading it. Equal doses of amusement and embarrassment flooded her. Her eyebrow raising slightly as the grin on her face grew until her cheeks hurt. His letter was rather impertinent if she did say so herself, but really what more could she expect after the way she behaved. She'd hurried up the stairs to the second story landing that night, just to catch one last glimpse of him. She had made it to the window just in time to see him reach the other side of the street. The next morning she hadn't felt quite as bold and even given her somewhat brazen and impetuous nature, she looked back on the night before with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. She'd never truly expected to hear from him and a small part of her had been a little thankful for that thought when she questioned what he must think of her.

Five days Later, England.

Running the fingers of his right hand through his wet hair, Bucky walked back into his barracks, dressed in his undershirt, fatigues and boots. The towel he'd used after the shower he'd taken hung around his neck. He looked about as he made his way toward his bunk. The barracks were empty except for Sam, Wilson and Fletcher all sitting on Sam's cot not far away, playing cards. Bucky nodded his chin in acknowledgement.

Grabbing one end of the towel, he slipped it from around his neck then dropped it on his footlocker, noticing the letters laying on the end of his neatly made bunk as he did so. They hadn't been there when he left. Picking them up, he sat down near the head of the bed, swung his legs up, and crossed his ankle as he leaned back against the wall. "I swear tha boy gets mor' letthus than the rest of us," Teddy Fletcher from the Bronx said, drawing Bucky's attention from the letters he just started thumbing through.

"Maybe if you showered more often you'd get 'mor' letthus' too." Wilson threw out, mimicking Teddy's accent as leaned closer to Fletcher and sniffed then made a sour face.

Teddy reached out and hit Wilson in the arm, shoving him slightly. "Shuddup and give me a good card would ya."

Used to Fletcher's mouth and the crap he likes to give, Bucky just grinned and turned his attention back to the letters in his hand, but before he'd even got a chance to really look at them Sam spoke drawing his gaze. "You wanna play, Buck?"

"Nah, he doesn't wanna play, he knows he'll lose," Fletcher answered for him in that nasally Bronx accent of his before Bucky got a chance to speak, then added, "ain't that right Sarg?"

Bucky put the letters down and moved to the empty cot between his and Sam's then slapped Fletcher on the back and said, "Deal me in." Three hands and close to an hour and twenty minutes later, Bucky was a few dollars richer and finally turning his attention back to the letters he'd left on his bunk, leaving the others to play on without him.

Picking them up as he sat back down and scooted up to top of bed like he had before. The first one he'd looked at earlier had been from his aunt, but he shuffled through them making sure there wasn't one from Becca as well. He always read hers first. There wasn't one from Beck, but there was one that caught his eye. Tearing the envelope open and pulling the paper out he leaned back a little farther making himself comfortable, a slight grin already tugging at his lips.

Dear Bucky, 

or wait, should I use sergeant Barnes?! Yes. I like that better. Dear Sergeant Barnes, I couldn't have just asked you to write me now could I? We don't hardly know each other, it would have been far too forward. But enough about all that. I am well thank you and I hope you are also. Truthfully, I had given up on ever receiving a letter from you seems it has been weeks since we last met and not to criticize, and I do thank you for the note, but I was hoping for something that consisted of more than five sentences. You could tell me about England and more about yourself?

Your friend, Rose.

Thanks for reading!


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